


Twenty Cups of Coffee

by SolarPoweredFlashlight



Category: League of Legends
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, F/F, Meet-Cute
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-03
Updated: 2018-12-03
Packaged: 2019-09-06 11:19:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,566
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16831600
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SolarPoweredFlashlight/pseuds/SolarPoweredFlashlight
Summary: Hockey team captain Irelia mostly goes to the coffee shop near the arena for pick-me-ups after practice, but there's something about that cute barista that makes her wonder if she's got any chance of picking up more than just a coffee.





	Twenty Cups of Coffee

**Author's Note:**

  * For [thegadgetfish](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thegadgetfish/gifts).



** 1 **

“Can I get three medium coffees, one black, one milk, one double-double, and a café mocha?”

“Sorry, so that’s one medium black coffee - ?” She fumbles with the cash register; she’s clearly new, but she doesn’t seem flustered so much as firmly expecting her patron to back up and speak more slowly please.

“One black,” Irelia waits to see it appear on the till, “One with just milk in it,” old buttons, green angular letters on a tiny screen, and the next appears, “One with two sugars, two creams,”

“And a café mocha. All of them medium?” They make eye contact. Just a fraction of a second late the barista makes herself smile. She’ll get the hang of it, Irelia thinks. Not a people person, but learning to fake it.

Pretty eyes.

“All of them medium.”

Irelia pays with a reloadable swipe card. Her teammates smirk at her when she brings the drinks to their table.

“You’re all impossible,” she tells them, quietly amused.

** 2 **

“I’ll have one medium black,” pause, “One medium coffee with milk,” pause, “One medium hot chocolate,” pause, “and a medium French vanilla.”

“Is that everything?”

“That’s everything.”

** 3 **

“Can I get one medium black and one medium with milk,” pause, “and two medium hot chocolates?”

“Is that everything?”

“That’s everything, thanks.”

Irelia wishes her friends would stop smirking at her when she comes back to the table.

** 4 **

“Good morning,” she says today. Either she’s getting better at faking it, or she’s actually happy to see Irelia and her sweaty bunch.

“Good morning,” Irelia answers, smiling a little at the thought that the new barista is somehow training herself to be friendly in spite of always being stuck on the early shifts.

“What can I get for you?”

“Can I get two medium coffees, one black and one with milk, and a medium café mocha?”

“You’re missing someone today,” the barista says, her smile half hidden by the rim of her visor as she hits buttons on the cash register.

“Her dad picked her up today after practice.”

“Ah,” she says, and goes to make the drinks.

** 5 **

“Good morning,” she says. They make eye contact again, briefly - the first time since two weeks ago when she started there. Irelia becomes very aware of her messy hair and her slovenly after-practice outfit.

“Good morning. How’s your day been so far?” The question comes out naturally. Small-talk, quick snippets of cordiality before getting down to the transaction that this is really about.

“Slow. Can’t complain.” There’s nobody behind Irelia in line. “What can I get for you today?”

“Medium coffee black, medium coffee milk, one hot chocolate, one French vanilla.”

“Anything else?” She’s getting the hang of things, clearly.

“That’s everything, thanks.”

When Irelia brings the coffee back to their table, Akali asks, “So when are you getting her phone number?” Irelia ignores her, but wonders when she became so transparent.

** 6 **

Irelia says ‘good morning’ first today. She even fends off her pre-coffee zombie torpor to smile.

“Good morning,” the barista says. “Is it still snowing hard?”

“Slowed down, but it’s so cold I could feel my nose hairs freeze every time I inhaled,” Irelia quips.

“I know that feeling way too well,” she says, with a grin that looks genuine. “What can I get for you?”

“One black coffee, one with milk, one double-double, and a hot chocolate, please.”

“All medium?”

“All medium.”

Today, as she pours the coffees, she keeps chatting. “What practice are you guys always coming in from?”

“Hockey,” Irelia says, the one word touched with the passion of a thousand games, the rush of tightly laced skates with lovingly maintained blades, of rolls of hockey tape and sweat on her back and a stick in her hands. To be fast, to be graceful, to be strong. Unstoppable.

“Cool,” she says, and the way her face lights up makes Irelia think she means it.

** 7 **

“Good morning,” Irelia says, smiling again through the fog of caffeine withdrawal.

“Good morning. How was practice?” Irelia notices she’s already poured a medium black coffee.

“Good. Got a game tomorrow so everyone had to burn off some energy.”

“Nothing like pre-game heebie jeebies. What can I get for you today?”

“Medium black coffee, medium coffee with milk, hot chocolate and a French vanilla.”

Today a lineup forms behind Irelia, so the barista is too busy to chat.

“Good luck with your game,” she manages to say, before turning to the next customer.

** 8 **

“Good morning,” She says, as Irelia approaches. She looks tired today.

“Good morning. How’re you today?” Irelia asks.

“Getting over a cold,” she answers, but manages to smile anyways.

“Wondered where you were last week,” Irelia says, with a sympathetic smile. “Hopefully you feel better soon. We all missed you.”

There’s that eye contact again. She really does look tired. She shouldn’t be back at work.

“Thanks, that’s nice of you.” She snuffles and blinks, but she’s still smiling. “What can I get for you?”

“Can I get two coffees, one black, one with milk, and two hot chocolates?”

“All medium?” The question is a formality at this point – she’s already punching in the order.

“Yep.”

** 9 **

She looks better today. She beams when she looks up and sees Irelia and her gang come in the door. Ahri nudges Irelia on her way to the table in a way that is not subtle at all, not that subtle is really Ahri’s style.

“Good morning. How was practice?”

“Good,” Irelia says. She’s feeling energized, even if she’s still desperately craving her coffee. “It usually is.”

“Yeah, I bet.”

Nobody else is in the coffee shop. Irelia takes the opportunity to stretch out the length of their usual exchange. “You ever play?”

“Not much – I’ve always liked watching team sports better than playing them.”

“You should come to a game some time, if you’re not busy. The arena is right around the corner.”

“I’ll have to swing by. Just let me know when.” The door jangles, and conversation time is over. “What’re you guys having today?”

“The usual two coffees, and then two café mochas.”

“Sure thing.” She flashes Irelia a grin.

As Irelia takes the tray from her, she says, “I’m Irelia, by the way.”

“Riven. Nice to meet you.”

** 10 **

“Good morning,” she says. Her name is Riven, and knowing this makes Irelia quietly happy.

“Good morning. How’s it going today?”

Riven smiles. “It’s going. Good practice?”

“It was okay, yeah. It’ll be the usual two coffees and then a mocha and a hot chocolate.”

“So if you’re not into team sports, what do you like to do?” This is an easy ice-breaker. Irelia is an active person; she likes sports, she can talk about sports as naturally as she can walk and breathe. Her dad was an athlete too – it’s in her blood.

“Sometimes in the summer I kayak or rock climb,” Riven says, while she punches in the order. “I used to snowboard.”

“Used to?” Those two words are a particularly bad pair. An injury maybe? A bad experience?

“Can’t afford it anymore,” Riven says, with a shrug and a sad smile that says there’s more to the story.

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

“I’ll survive.” She makes the drinks, changes the subject. “So when’s that game of yours I’m coming to see?”

“There’s one this Friday at two.”

“Perfect. I’ll be there.”

** 11 **

“What do you take in your coffee?” Irelia asks, carrying the cheap foam cups over to the station with the sugar and cream and lids and stirsticks and sticky coffee stains.

“Just cream,” Riven says, and it’s odd to hear her voice from behind her instead of from across a counter. She’s cute in her work uniform, Irelia has decided, but properly attractive in normal street clothes. She dresses much the way Irelia does, that balance of comfort and convenience and casual style. Without the uniform she actually looks like the kind of person who kayaks and climbs and boards.

“The arena coffee is kind of crappy, but it’s cheap, and it’s coffee.”

“I’d be surprised if you guys drove around the block twice a week for coffee if the stuff right outside the change rooms were just as good,” she says, and Irelia enjoys this slightly more relaxed, playful person Riven has become outside of the confines of work. “Thanks for treating me,” Riven says, as Irelia pours cream into her cup.

“Thanks for coming.”

“It was an exciting game. I haven’t shouted that hard in a while.”

“Oh, so that was you, was it?” Irelia is teasing. She can never hear anything from the stands once she’s in the zone. “You must have a powerful pair of lungs.”

“I must,” Riven replies, accepting the coffee as it’s handed to her.

** 12 **

“Good morning,”

“Good morning,”

“How was practice?”

“Good, worked up a real sweat today.”

“Thanks against for inviting me to the game. I’ve missed that sort of thing. Was nice to feel part of it again.”

“You used to be pretty involved then?”

“All my life, through school and on the side. School was mostly what I did things through, though, so dropping out kind of put an end to that.”

“Oh, damn.”

“Yeah.”

Irelia’s not entirely sure what to say to that. It feels callous to jump into the coffee order. Instead, she says, “Well, you’re always welcome to come watch our games. The rest of the team said you seemed pretty cool.” Irelia watches Riven glance past her to where she knows her three friends are sitting at the table. She tries not to worry about whether Riven will catch them grinning.

“I think I will.”

She looks back at Irelia, and she smiles.

“What’re you guys having today?”

“Two coffees, one black, one with milk, and two French vanillas.” She pauses, grins, and raises her voice a little. “One of these days I’m going to teach those two to drink _real_ coffee.”

“Good luck with that!” Ahri chirps from somewhere among the tables.

It makes Riven's smile reach her eyes again, and that’s what matters.

** 13 **

“Hey,” Riven says when Irelia gets to the front of the line, alone and dragging a backpack. She’s clearly surprised to see her. Irelia’s kind of surprised to see her too, but she was hoping she’d be working even though she normally does morning shifts.

“How’s it going?”

“Good, busy. Lunch rush.” She grins wryly. “Nothing I can’t handle. What can I get for you?”

“Just a black coffee, for now.” Riven pours the coffee; Irelia pays with cash today instead of with the team’s swipe card.

Irelia finds an empty table near an electrical outlet and sets up a studying station. She does, in her estimation, a pretty good job of concentrating on _Beowulf_ and the notebook she’s filling with plans and notes for the upcoming essay. Around two her stomach can’t take any more and she wanders back up to the counter.

“How goes the work?” Riven asks, and Irelia feels a prickle of pleasure at the back of her neck thinking about Riven watching her slyly while pouring coffees and distributing donuts.

“Slow but sure. I like hockey a lot more than I like English lectures.”

Riven laughs. “I hear you.”

“I think I need to refuel, though. What do you recommend for sandwiches?”

“Anything but the egg salad. Do not trust the egg salad sandwich.”

“Warning heard loud and clear. How about a BLT?”

“Coming right up,” Riven says, and there’s just a bit of purr, a bit of smirk, a bit of flirtation in the way she says it. Irelia keeps a poker face on while Riven makes the sandwich, but she only manages it thanks to years of practice.

** 14 **

“Good morning. How are you doing today?”

“Pretty well. Practice was good.” Irelia swears she can feel her teammates’ eyes on the back of her head like three accusing police helicopter spotlights trained on her, blinding and inescapable.

“What’re you guys having today?”

“The two usual coffees, and the sissies are having hot chocolates today.” It makes her feel marginally better to tease them, but she’s still sweating.

Riven grins at her, and somehow that makes it worse.

“So there’s another game coming up on a Saturday, and after it’s over we’re all going to go out for pizza and then a movie after, then maybe head to a bar and have a beer or two. You’d be welcome to come along, if you wanted.”

The grin gets wider, and Riven’s hand pauses where it’s settled onto the handle of the coffee pot. “That sounds like a blast. I’d love to come.”

Irelia is grinning too when she gets back to the table. She relays the news and all three pump their fists into the air, shout “WOO!” and beam across the café at Riven, who suddenly becomes sheepish, flashes them a smile, and then urgently needs to go clean something.

** 15 **

Their eyes lock as soon as Irelia walks into the café. They both start grinning. Riven ducks her head and returns to the customer she was serving, who glances back at the group of hockey players that just entered to try to figure out what the barista is looking at.

As Irelia waits in line, she pulls her phone out of her pocket and rereads the text message conversation from last night. She manages to keep a blank face but inside her heart is leaping. A few phrases are her favourite. _‘Yeah. I’d definitely like to see you again.’_ And _‘It’s hard not to be relaxed around you.’_ And _‘I liked getting to watch you play. ;)’_ in particular.

She fumbles to put the phone away when she gets to the cash and thinks about Riven fumbling over her order the first time they met.

“Hey,” she says.

“Hey.”

They beam at each other.

“What’re you having today?”

“The usual for Akali and I, and then a hot chocolate and a mocha.”

“Coming right up,” Riven says, and now Irelia knows for sure that she’s flirting.

** 16 **

“Would you guys like to see a dessert menu?”

“Just a coffee for me,” Irelia says.

“Same for me,” Riven says.

The waitress leaves, and the conversation resumes effortlessly.

“So they really wanted to win that badly. Why didn’t you take it to the administration, though?”

“I did,” Riven says, “But they heard me out, wrote everything down, ushered me out of the office, and then never did anything about it. The administration is just as corrupt as the coach was.”

“Jesus, so your friends came out of it with career-ending injuries and the coach never got punished for it or even owned up to it?”

“Nope.”

They’re quiet for a while.

“I’m sorry. That really sucks.” Irelia frowns. “I guess I’ve never had to deal with shitty management before. I’ve only ever had awesome coaches and I’ve never had a problem with the league.”

“It happens. I’ll figure something out. I can pay rent for now, and it’s not like my friends with university degrees aren’t stuck working minimum wage just the same as I am.”

The waitress comes and sets down two cups of coffee and a little tray of sugar and cream. Irelia pushes the tray towards Riven.

“Good for you for standing up for what’s right, though. It’s a shame you don’t snowboard anymore.”

Riven stares into her coffee as she opens up and pours in a container of cream. “I couldn’t even think about it without getting angry for the first few months after I dropped out.”

“You can’t give it up forever, though. Even if I couldn’t play competitively, I’d still want to play hockey.”

“Maybe,” Riven says. She flicks her eyes up at Irelia, and Irelia feels like she knows Riven, knows her passion for her sport, knows her rage at injustice and of people taking advantage of young athletes, knows her conflicted desire to experience the freedom of the sport in spite of all the harm it’s caused people in the past.

“I miss it so much,” Riven confesses.

Irelia reaches across the table and touches her hand. Riven leans forward to press their palms together.

“You’ll get back to it,” Irelia promises. They’re the words she’d want to hear, in Riven’s situation. They seem to do the trick.

“Maybe,” Riven says again, softly.

Their coffees sit forgotten between them.

** 17 **

“Hey you,” Riven grins at Irelia as she approaches the cash.

“Good morning,” Irelia says, hands in her pockets, somehow feeling like the king of the world in her baggy sweatshirt and her messy ponytail full of fat snowflakes. It must be the way Riven has taken to looking at her.

“Today, I’m going to guess,” Riven says, turning her eyes to the table of girls, “a hot chocolate and a French vanilla.”

“I’m impressed,” Irelia says, leaning in a little. “How’d you know?”

“Dumb luck,” she answers, and Irelia wants so badly to reach across the counter and touch her. All she can think about is the parking lot of Riven’s apartment where they stood in the snow outside Irelia’s car and kissed in the dark while their toes and fingers froze.

Riven starts to punch in their order and Irelia can only smile.

“When’s your shift end?”

“Five.”

“Wanna catch a movie tonight?”

“Sure. Give me like an hour to get home and change?”

“Sounds like a plan.”

Irelia isn’t sure how Riven manages it, but by the time she gets to the table and sits down there’s a new text message waiting for her that only says “;)” and makes her flush red enough for all of her friends to notice.

** 18 **

When Irelia comes out of the change room hauling her hockey bag full of gear, her stick slung over her shoulder, Riven is there waiting for her with two foam cups of cheap, shitty coffee and one kiss of the absolute highest quality.

** 19 **

The little apartment starts to smell wonderful – like coffee – and Irelia is halfway to being properly awake when Riven wanders back into the bedroom and stands next to the bed to stroke her face.

Irelia murmurs blearily and smiles up at her.

“Coooooffeeeee,” she groans, facetiously.

“I have no idea how you manage to get up for practice in time,” Riven smirks, “You sleep like a corpse.”

“Lots of alarm clocks,” Irelia says, “and a bed that always gets a painful blast of sunlight right in the face any time later than six.” She hauls herself up into a sitting position, and reaches for Riven’s wrist to kiss it on a whim. “I like your bed better, I think.”

Riven chuckles and runs her fingers through Irelia’s long hair, now thoroughly mussed. “Come have coffee,” she says.

They take their mismatched mugs into a tiny living room where they sit in peaceful, contented quiet. Irelia spies the black and green fiberglass peeking out from behind a half unpacked box and a dusty acoustic guitar.

“Tell me again how you snapped it in half?” She asks, gently, knowing it’s a sore subject.

“I took it off a jump and buried the entire nose a foot into solid packed snow, then leaned back. Crack!”

“Was it worth it?”

“The bastards were going to take back the board they gave me. It was a statement. I statement I’m still paying them back for, but it was the only way I felt like I could fight back.”

Irelia squeezes gently with the arm she has wrapped around Riven’s hips. “I don’t totally blame you. Shame to wreck something so beautiful though.”

“Beautiful but funded by corrupt management policies.”

“Blood money snowboard,” Irelia purrs into Riven’s ear, and she squirms and laughs.

“Yes,” she says, “exactly.”

****

** 20 **

“You were right,” Irelia says, holding down the plunger and watching the cup fill with coffee, “It’s actually not too hard to pick up if you know how to skate. Not exactly the same, but easier than I expected.” She has to raise her voice a little to be heard over the bustle of other people in their colourful jackets and snowpants and clomping boots as they fill their lunch trays with chalet food staples like overpriced fries and hot dogs and chicken fingers.

She hands the coffee to Riven, then fills a second cup at the dispenser.

“I had a feeling you’d find skiing pretty easy to get the hang of,” Riven says, “even on the crappy rental equipment.“

“I guess it must be jarring, after having your own for so long.”

“I won’t pretend I don’t miss having the top of the line board. But you can’t buy freedom, and you can’t buy a clear conscience. A shitty old rental board is a lot lighter to carry than one that meant compromising on my beliefs.”

They take their trays to the register; Irelia pays, insisting, because today is her treat.

They find an empty pair of seats at a table near the window and peel off goggles, hats, gloves, jackets, neck warmers, helmets. Sweaty and red-faced, they sit across from each other and reach across the table to hold hands.

“Thank you,” Riven says. “I don’t think I could have done this without you.”

“You could have,” Irelia says, and knows it’s true. “But I’m glad I could be there to do it with you.”


End file.
